Meet the Huxleys
by Dark Interval
Summary: When Aznor and Forte Huxley found out their son was returning home with his lover, neither of them expected it to be a guy, much less Albel the Wicked.


**Author's note:**

So, I was feeling inspired during my travels and churned out this short story in a single sitting. A little Albel/Roger to peak your exotic taste buds. I will get back to updating "The Stars Told Me So" when I return from my trip.

 **Disclaimer:**

Star Ocean: Till the End of Time and all of its characters belong to Square Enix. All I do is borrow them and churn out alternate situations for my own personal amusement.

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 **Meet the Huxleys**

 **by Dark Interval**

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When Aznor and Forte Huxley found out their son was returning home with his lover, neither of them expected it to be a guy, much less Albel the Wicked. In fact, Forte herself had mistook the young, scary and grumpy Glyphian as a pretty, albeit flat-chested young woman when she answered the door earlier, that is until he had growled the words, " _Good afternoon"_ with strained, practiced politeness. Albel's smile had even looked so _painful_ on his face, Forte was half-tempted to ask if he needed some ointment for that – you know, in case he was secretly nursing a bruise… or a really nasty toothache.

And then, Roger had stepped out from behind Albel's long legs and greeted his parents cheerfully as if he hadn't just brought home the most fearsome man in all of Gaitt. Least to say, Aznor and Forte had little choice but to accept the fact that they weren't going to have a sweet and demure daughter-in-law.

After Roger had spent a good few minutes convincing his parents that no, Albel wasn't here on the king's orders to drag any one of them to prison, or torture them in his training facility, or set fire to the village, or sink the lost city again, they finally stepped aside and allowed him in.

"Please place your weapons by the entrance, sir," Aznor indicated at the reception table. "We don't want to go about upsetting our guests now."

Albel scowled, causing the poor Featherfolkian on duty by the counter to cower in fear. Aznor let out a nervous chuckle, sweating.

"Right… I don't suppose you could leave that scowl behind, huh?" And then the corners of Albel's lips twitched sporadically, which was when Aznor realized to his horror that the man was trying to smile again. "I-I was joking! Just your sword and gauntlet is fine."

"I _never_ remove my gauntlet, wor – _sir,_ " he caught himself when Roger elbowed him in the shin. "… It's a disability." He grumbled in a mixture of both embarrassment and self-loathing.

Aznor's eyes softened, sympathetic. "Oh, well in that case, just your sword, son."

"I _never_ – " But before Albel could argue his way out of that one, Roger gave a none-too-gentle kick behind his knees. The next moment, Albel's precious katana was deposited on the counter and they made their way into the common room.

Aznor and Forte settled on their respective armchairs as they faced their smiling, innocent son and his cranky lover on the small settee opposite. Albel was the tallest person in the entire house and with his dark, brooding personality in stark contrast to Roger's sunny, carefree disposition, the couple never looked more incompatible. The Huxleys could pretty much see the perpetual storm cloud hovering over the Glyphian's head. Inwardly, Forte couldn't help but offer up a silent prayer of apology to the gods for offending them with this upsetting balance.

Deciding to break the awkward silence, Roger cleared his throat and got the ball rolling.

"Pops, mama? This is Albel Nox, my... boyfriend," he introduced, blushing from head to toe. "He's from Airyglyph and is captain of the Black Brigade, soon ta be General from the looksa things."

"A _General!_ " Forte exclaimed, wholly impressed, especially for someone so young. "My, that _is_ an honor. Congratulations, dearie."

"Hnn." Was all Albel said, arms crossed. It was obvious he saw it as no big a deal. Plus, he wouldn't even _be_ here if Roger hadn't dragged him, kicking and screaming, by his hair.

"So, Albel," Aznor began, lacing his fingers together. "How did you and my son meet?"

"Prison."

Awkward silence…

"You mean _near_ a prison, dearie?" offered Forte kindly, right eye twitching despite her smile.

"I was _in_ prison."

"Oh."

The couple exchanged nervous glances. Roger hurriedly interrupted before his boyfriend could screw up this meeting further. Rule number one in all meet-the-parents sessions: _never_ _ **ever**_ mention prison, or being _imprisoned_ for that matter. Honestly, what the hell crawled up Albel's ass and died? They had _rehearsed_ this.

"Ahahaha… He was… uh… falsely accused for summin. Yeah, that's right. But the king let him go eventually and he followed us ta the Mount'uns of Barr ta talk ta some king of dragons cuz he was sorta the only person who could…" Roger trailed off, scratching the back of his head nervously. Now that he said it out-loud, that _did_ sound pretty far-fetched.

"The King of Dragons?" Aznor repeated skeptically. "Are you saying that the Marquis actually listened to a human?"

"Well, Albel _did_ defeat him…"

He didn't get it. Why did his parents look so afraid? Personally, he found it pretty cool and that was probably the moment he started crushing on the stoic swordsman. After all, even _real men_ couldn't face up to Crosell. Albel had to be someone even better! His boyfriend was probably _the_ definition of 'real man' (the clothes could use some work though), and Roger wasn't going to settle for anyone less. He was _veeeerrrrry_ important after all.

"L-Let's just have Albel talk about himself for a bit, shall we?" Forte directed her attention to the silent man in question. "What do you do for a living, dearie?"

"Kill people."

Roger picked up a cushion and repeatedly smashed it against his face.

"W-What are you good at?"

"Killing people."

… He wondered if he could smolder himself to death with it.

"What about your hobbies?" Forte pressed on, hoping the man wouldn't say 'kill people' for the third time. No one could enjoy death, violence and destruction so much, could they?

Albel opened his mouth. "Ki – "

"COOKING!" Roger interrupted, practically throwing himself on his boyfriend's lap. Albel snarled at him and would have roughly shoved him off without a second thought if not for the child's parents watching him like hawks.

Both Forte and Aznor regarded the Glyphian with looks of surprise and approval. Practical, beneficial, not to mention normal and void of psychotic acts of bloodshed and unnecessary violence… honestly, they expected something along the lines of torture. Not that they were complaining.

"Oh, that sounds delightful!" Forte clapped her hands in excitement. As village chief and resident innkeeper, her husband couldn't agree more.

"Yes, that _does_ sound promising." Aznor laughed heartily, smacking his son on the back. "For someone who loves food so much, Roger can't cook to save his life! You'd be doing us all a favor." He turned his full attention to Albel, a curious glint in his eyes. "What can you cook by the way?"

"I made the little fool – he caught himself again – _Roger_ , a cake for his birthday. I believe it is what you people call 'chocolate'," Albel replied. He decided not to mention that it hadn't been a very good cake and Roger ended up sick with a bad stomach for days. Yes, it probably wasn't best to admit that he, Albel the Wicked, had poisoned their only son on his birthday. Even if it had been an accident.

Well, the Menodix _did_ say something along the lines of "it's the thought that counts". That is, after he had finally woken up from his coma. It had been a rather stressful (though peaceful) return trip from 4D space then. Peaceful, because they didn't have to deal with a loud, hyperactive child for the entire journey; stressful, because they were worried Albel had killed him and he had spent many moons wondering what the hell he was going to tell Roger's parents.

Aznor nodded at his wife and she returned her husband's gaze, knowing. It was time for the most important question.

"Albel, how old are you?"

Said man frowned so hard he would have burned a hole in the carpet if he could. And that was only because he was struggling to remember the last time he or _anyone_ had ever celebrated his birthday… 15? No, that couldn't be right. He became Black Brigade Captain shortly after his coming of age ceremony, so he had been 21 then… give or take a few more years…

"24," he concluded.

A tense silence preceded his answer, one that didn't bode well for the young couple. Forte regarded her husband in concern and he mirrored her stare. They appeared to have reached a silent, mutual understanding before Aznor returned his gaze to Albel, solemn and apologetic. He shook his head sagely.

"Albel, you are by far a worthy suitor – your status, military accolades, and financial standing are no doubt exceptional. I have every confidence you'd be able to provide and care for our son." He paused, placing a comforting hand over Forte's. "However, how can we be sure you're sincere in your intentions with Roger?"

"… I _came all the way here_ , didn't I? What more do you miserable simpletons want? The bloody earth and sky? Space?! Your son is _extremely foolish_ and _annoying,_ pray tell who the hell in the right mind would want to date him, much less be able to stand him for more than five minutes?" was what Albel had wanted to say, but realized he would end up making himself look not only like a bloody hypocrite, but incredibly foolish himself. After all, _he_ was the one in this room, in this house, meeting said fool's parents instead of – oh, Leingod for instance. Something he was secretly smug about, but now was slowly coming to regret. Why the hell was courting so difficult? Who came up with this bloody concept in the first place? And why were people so stupid?

"Pops, please – " But whatever Roger wanted to say was cut off by his father with a wave of his hand.

"Let's look at the facts." Aznor indicated at a sullen Albel. "You're _male_ , you're _human,_ and you're _12 years_ older, just to name a few. How do we know you don't have some hidden agenda in courting our son? Roger is hardly old enough to make these important decisions, much less know what he really wants. Though I understand it is common for couples with drastic age gaps to marry, even preferred, I can't help but remain skeptical about you, Albel."

The senior Menodix shook his head with finality. "I'm sorry, Roger, but your mother and I must disapprove."

"But – "

Forte shot Roger a sympathetic smile. "Please try and understand, sweetie. We just don't want you to get hurt." She rose from her seat. "We'll leave you two alone to sort things out."

"… Wait."

Aznor and Forte paused at the doorway, turning to face the speaker curiously. Albel stood tall and resolute on his feet, a sudden determination swimming in his vermillion eyes. Roger opened his mouth in a bid to question the Glyphian's strange behavior, but stopped himself as soon the man started speaking.

"Mr. and Mrs. Huxley, your concern as parents are not unfounded, but before you leave, _I_ have something to say." Albel paused, surprising himself with his uncharacteristic civility and capacity for speech. "As you have clearly expressed, I am someone of noble background – noble enough to wed any lady of my choice; yet here I am in your house receiving judgment from you people, _willingly_."

When it appeared he had gotten their attention, he continued with his speech. Humiliating or not, he had come _too far_ to be turned away and out of Roger's life forever.

"I came all the way _here_ from _Airyglyph_ by foot, because the little fool wanted me to meet his family, and I said _yes._ I _would_ travel back-and-forth as often as my schedule would permit, as long as he wishes to continue seeing me. I've _travelled_ the whole of Gaitt with him; fought strange beings from even stranger worlds; crossed _space_ and journeyed into an alternate dimension… I don't think there is _anyone_ who can even come close to the kind of experiences we have been through together. I dare you to try me."

"Albel…" Roger whispered in awe, never having seen this passionate side of the captain before.

"If the little fool is too ignorant to make his own decisions, then let me make _those_ decisions for us. I know very well how I feel about your son and with my current eligible age and status; I am fully inclined to consider relationships in a long-term perspective. I'm 24 years old. I don't think I need to explain myself further."

Forte hesitated. "But… have you been with anyone else…?"

"No, the world is full of pitiful worms and my past admirers were all stupid," replied Albel flippantly with a wave of his hand. "Don't get me wrong, your son is stupid too. But he's a different kind of stupid – one that, god forbid, you can grow quite fond of."

'Thanks a lot, Albel,' Roger thought to himself sarcastically.

"The point is," Albel paused to take Roger's hand between his larger ones. If the Menodix blinked, he would have missed the barest quirk of the corners of the captain's lips.

"The point is… I... " He swallowed his pride. "I love your son very much. He may be 12 and more than a bloody handful, but after what I've seen during our travels, I think he will grow up to be a fine man, and… I want to be able to experience that first-hand."

The small hand between his grip shook. Roger could only gaze up at his boyfriend in awe; cheeks stained an adorable shade of pink. Albel had never… he _never_ thought he'd ever hear… Was the guy feeling ok?

Meanwhile, Forte and Aznor shared a tender look before the latter nodded at Albel, a calm, benevolent smile on his face. He held his wife's hands lovingly in his own.

"And that was all we wanted to hear," he spoke, eyes shining in approval.

Roger stuttered, blinking stupidly. "Y-Ya mean… you guys are givin' him a chance?"

"Yes, sweetie," Forte winked. "Just remember you're only courting. No grown-up stuff until you're older – that goes for you too, Albel." The Glyphian grumbled something unintelligible. "Also, the inn gets really busy on weekends and I expect you two to help out as much as you can." More grumbling. "And – "

"Yeah, yeah, mama. We got it."

"And if you two go on dates, make sure Albel picks you up and sends you back safe."

" _OK_ , mama –"

"And if you're going to Airyglyph, make sure to pack lots of warm – "

" _Yeesh_ , I got it!"

Geez, his parents could be _so_ protective… It wasn't like he didn't know how to take care of himself. He _did_ travel into 4D space _and_ helped defeat the universe's Creator after all.

Roger grabbed his moody boyfriend by the hand and desperately tugged him out of the room and out the house. Yes, he was impatient, but it also looked like Albel was 3.7 seconds close to punching his mother. After working so hard to gain his parents' approval, Roger didn't think it was wise to tempt the devil and have the past hour's efforts go up in flames.

"C'mon, Albel. I want ya ta meet my friends."

"That _really_ isn't necessary."

"But we're gonna have a 'Real Man Contest'!"

"That sounds almost as foolish as you."

"It ain't _foolish,_ Albel! I'm gonna beat Lucien this time, then he'll finally stop pickin' on me!"

"You're right," he drawled sarcastically, a nasty smirk on his face. "It's _extremely foolish,_ and if that worm is giving you so much problems, then why not let me kill him for you?"

"No, ya dummy! I don't wanna _kill_ him; I wanna _beat_ him!"

"That too can be arranged - _Argh!_ _ **Worm!"**_

Forte and Aznor peered out the window curiously and didn't quite know what to make of the sight of their son hanging off Albel the Wicked and using the man's hair as a rope. Growls of "I'm going to kill you!" rang throughout the sunny little village of Surferio, followed by childish laughter. The couple shook their heads, pleased smiles of their faces, before Aznor lowered the blinds to leave the mismatched pair to their own devices.

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 **Author's note:**

This was meant to be a one-shot, but who knows? ;) Thanks for reading!


End file.
